


Saturday's Friend

by TedsterTheDisturbed



Category: American Civil War - Fandom, Historical Fiction
Genre: Civil War, Other, Rebellion, Slavery, historical fiction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 17:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12635358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TedsterTheDisturbed/pseuds/TedsterTheDisturbed
Summary: Charlie, a born confederate is faced with the realities of befriending his childhood companion, Jordan- a slave owned by his father. With a controversial friendship, Charles learns the harsh world that divides him and his friend, while Jordan is forced to walk forward in the regretful blooming of a civil war.





	Saturday's Friend

"They've freed everyone- They did it...I'm so sorry." My hands shook in absolute guilt overflowing my veins. All that I could do was apologize and drink for victory. Their victory; not mine.  
"Don't cry, dearie- we're all happy 'ere," The woman in front of me spoke softly, grabbing my hand and rubbing my thumb. She was a dear friend; a beautiful woman, with a voice of liquid gold. Something of a voice like that shouldn’t be wasted on me.  
"Thank you for helping my baby," she added before turning and acknowledging the roaring excitement amongst the men, growing louder in uneven pitched singing. Men and women sang and cried as their children played with others beside them. I am not sure if I should indulge in glee or despair.

Down in Columbus, South Carolina, my family managed a beautiful estate.The pillars of the building stood tall in white that gave the rosemary walls a compliment. The lively vines stretched out and pressed against a few of the many sixteen windows that were built. They mainly wrapped around the window frames of the second floor near the white balcony on the center. It was a perfect image for the perfect canvas. I resided in the corner room with a window that faced the rope in which my mother's laundry was often hung on. My three sisters, Susan, Eleanor, and Angelica befriended the company of only themselves on the second window above, while my two younger brothers, Abraham and Theodore relied on my mother and father's room that was the first window on the right side of the house above. Lastly, my older brother, Jonathan, whom I don't often see, as his studies are much of importance to him, hid in his room on the second window on the right side, next to my parents. The ground floor was for the company of guests and entertainment. My father is not fond of his guests seeing I or my younger brothers, as we are still much too young. In case of the presence of a guest, we must use the stairs by the back door to travel around, unseen. Since I was four years old, my father has done his best to keep me at the back door. I remember fondly of my mother telling me I was born twice. The first wasn't a success, and I have always wondered what she meant when I pressed on with questions. My father did not like me, simply for how I looked. He told my older brother Johnathan that I might be a second failed attempt, but God thought otherwise. I made it to my ninth year, seeming to escape any sickness. For that, my mother loved me, but it was limited. She loved the liquor cabinet in my father's office more, and because of that, she was alone. My father thought of her as a disgraceful curious woman, and the other women thought of her as a traitor; Unwomanly. The heavens have given my family a miracle, however, they think differently. 

My two sisters, Angelica and Eleanore were, and still very much are concerned in men and their value to them. Why attractiveness is of importance to them is far beyond my knowledge. Even so, their attitude lacks change. They have been infatuated since their commencement in grammar school. Eleanore has told me repeatedly that Republicanism is the strength of this nation and a woman must do her job to teach her children that. My third sister, Susan was still too young, in fact, younger than I am. She still wore her white cotton dress that reached to her ankles and her white flats with small laces in the form of a bow at the front. Even with her toddler age, my father was telling her to look up to my sisters and do as they do. "Do what the nation would want." I received that talk once. My father told me the nation wanted me to be taller, to be more filled and manly. Johnathan picked up that message quickly and took me in to be a man. My father wanted a finished work, and so John took me as a work in progress, dragging me to hunting trips, outdoor chores, and knowledge. It's been this way since I was 10, and continues to be-Everything is the same, except for today. I heard a loud knock on my door that startled me enough to twitch myself awake. "Charlie! Up and at 'em, mate!" Jonathan yelled from the other side of the door. "John?...It's early, John! Leave me be," I yelled back as I clung to the edges of my covers. With no permission of entrance, Jonathan opened the door and placed his hand on my head. The comforting touch that I cherished since birth was too satisfying- I opened my eyes slowly and puffed my cheeks in frustration. "Come on, Charlie. I have rounds of pork that need to be fed to the slaves. Help me," he let out, quickly pulling off the covers. I shivered and squirmed like the baby Jonathan constantly reminded me I was.  
"Alright. I'm up! Can you help with my attire, John?"  
Jonathan gave a puzzled expression before looking over at the dresser beside my bed.

"And Annie? It's her job to organize your morning attire. Where is she-"  
"She must have forgotten this morning. It is fine," I spoke calmly before stretching and grabbing the breeches John lent out to me. I was unsure as to why he looked irritated. "It is not fine of a slave to neglect the child of her owner, Charlie. It is improper and absolutely irresponsible."  
“She has other duties too. Can’t we forgive her?”  
Jonathan clicked his tongue quickly and dropped the rest of my clothes at the corner of the bed. "Such a kind heart you have, little Charles," he spoke. "Hurry up now. I'll be outside waiting." This was usual routine. Every morning, my brother Johnathan wakes me up and has me help him feed whatever food the women downstairs made. They were quiet women and they seemed frightened most of the time. I've only gotten a glimpse of them once when they made turkey and burned it dark enough to match their color. I suppose today was pork. 

Jonathan had no reason to be mad at Ms. Annie. Or- that wasn’t a good enough reason to be mad, was it? Ms. Annie was a black woman, thin with her hair always covered. She often helped with my clothes, whether to dress me or wash my clothes. She seemed shy, but I suppose they all were. I disregarded my doubts and continued to dress, carefully adjusting the garters on my stockings to my breeches. It was a cream-like colored attire that mixed with the brown vest. My shoelaces had always been a frustrating task for me. My father gets upset when I rely on mother all the time. "A boy who suckles on their mother shan't ever march like a man," was what he had told me once. I don't like disappointing father, so of course, I did my best to tighten the laces. It was a failure. I presumed I'd be fine, they were after all- just laces.  
I quickly hurried downstairs and out to the side of the house. There, the small thorns clang to my laces as I ran. At the back, a woman folded the white fabrics in half with a smaller child grabbing them and carefully placing it in a basket. I suppose I was distracted by their duties that the rock misplaced my step. All I saw were a line of red ants crawling in circles around their ant hole. I quickly saw one any heading toward me before I was picked up from behind by a woman. It was Ms.Annie!

"Oh, dearie- are you alright? Lemme look at that foot. Give it 'ere," she said, looking at my knees and ankles. "I'm okay, Ms.Annie. I promise," I let out. In honesty, I was fine- I was more concerned about those ants.  
"I'll bring some padding, sugar. Stay right 're. Jordan! Come 'ere, baby! Jordan gon’ watch you, sugar. Stay still." She looked out and gestured her hand to the boy hugging the clothes. He put down the cotton white fabric and ran toward us, looking at me, perplexed. Immediately, Ms.Annie ran toward the house while Jordan continued to stare at me.  
"Your knee hurt, Mr. Charles," he spoke softly.  
"I'll be okay. Don't call me Mr.Charles. I'm Charlie."  
Jordan looked at me before nodding. He stood awkwardly above me before pointing down at the dirt. "Charlie, you got them ants on you," he quickly kneeled down and grabbed the red insect off of my arm and let it crawl back down to the dirt. "They been keeping they home nice and snug, that's what mama says," he said to me, watching as the any crawled back in formation. "They're very protective, aren't they?" I responded. "Jordan, do you like ants?"  
Jordan nodded again. "Them ants are small but smart. ey- it dirty down there. 'Ere." He gave his hand and pulled me up quickly. The soreness of my ankle grew painfully fast and I couldn't help but cling to the boy's long white shirt. It smelled like pork. "You okay, Charlie?"  
"Yes, I'm-I'm okay. Thank you."  
His eyes were light amber brown to my surprise. Usually, all the people I've seen have dark colors. He looked back and smiled before a roaring voice yelled above both of us, with a hand smacking him down to the dirt. "Have you lost your mind, boy! Have you never heard of common sense! Don't you dare look directly at my brother's eyes, you hear?" Jonathan yelled loudly and gripped my wrist. "You should not be talking to his kind."  
"Jonathan, I fell! I hadn't paid attention to the ground and fell from the rock right there!!" I cried out, pointing relentlessly at the small rock and crater I made. "Ms.Annie left to retrieve medical equipment," I added.  
"You rely too much on women. You are fine, Charlie. Get up and walk, now" he ordered. It hurt to press down on my ankle but I had to- I pressed down my weight and limped to Jonathan who grabbed the bowls of pork waiting at the corner. "The slaves need to be fed, Charles. Quicken that pace of yours."  
I did, I quickened my steps, looking over to see Jordan's face pressed down on the sand with ants crawling on him left and right. He didn't move. All I saw was the dirt on his shirt, and his body dancing. He whimpered lightly as I walked away. I couldn’t help but stare and wonder what I did bad on. If i got yelled at- shouldn’t I be on the dirt too?  
We took quickly onto the houses- my older brother feeding the slaves, and I, staying outside and watching from afar. “When you’re older like I am, you can handle them.”  
“How come I can’t go in there?” I asked, gripping tightly onto the edge of the doors. “You can’t go in because you’re far too young to be doing this task. For now, you can hold the supplies and watch.”  
I gave a confused expression. I turned and glanced at Jordan. He wasn’t there anymore. My heart thumped quickly and I looked around more before seeing Jordan folding the fabric again. He looked back at me for a second before turning and limping away from my sight. Jonathan walked out and looked at me then at my general direction. “Why are you upset, Charlie?”  
“He was hurt.” Jonathan scoffed lightly and gripped my shoulder. “Charlie you need to understand that there are some things a negro can and can’t do.”  
“But he hadn’t done anything!”  
“A young slave staring at his owner? That’s beyond inappropriate!” Jonathan looked at me and kneeled down slowly. His eyes glared at me heavily though as he spoke- he sounded nurturing and calm. “Charles, I’m going to tell you this now before father interferes and punishes you. In this world, a negro is not your friend nor someone you should pity. Think of them as property. You remember how father explained the importance of property, correct?”  
I nodded and felt my palms sweat.  
“Good. In our world, we have- You have the advantage of making a life for yourself. “Life, Liberty, and Property” wise words from John Locke himself. Property is a necessity. Understand?”  
I nodded again and pressed my tongue against my palate. Jonathan smiled and smacked my shoulder lightly before walking away. “I'll finish the rest. You go on and head inside."

I slipped away from his reach and though carefully as I walked away. Ever since my father took me with Johnathan to an auction- I've been nothing more than confused. A boy was thrown to the ground and despised because of me. Yet it was nothing concerning. My shoes drag against the dirt, a habit my mother dreads. I don't know what is wrong and what is right here. I glanced to the right after hearing a cry; it sounded like fearful laughing. It was that boy and a woman next to him. She glanced back at me and tightened her expression before rising to her feet and dragging the boy away from my sight. I can't help but feel that it should be wrong. But it wasn't. 

 

Once I got inside, I saw my father through the crack of the door in his study. He had his spectacles on and wrote down on his desk. He looked up at me, narrowing his eyes. I know that look. It was the look he gave me when I was seven years old. He stood tall against the lectern with a loud crowd. I stood next to him, yearning to hold onto his vest for support. It was loud and I was fragile. But it was the men that walked to the stage, slouched before being whipped into a straight posture. They looked like turkeys hung out to buy. Men hollered around and rose their hands toward the stage. I felt that they would reach and grab at my ankles. I gripped onto my father, staring at the black men and women, young and old and my father simply brushed off my grip repeatedly. A young girl stared at me, aligned with the others. She looked dead. I gripped my father once more and whispered, "I want to go to mother." He looked at me with a sense of disgust, tightening the muscles on his face and ignored my request. I went ahead and stood there for another hour in fear.

 

I looked away from him, passed the crack opened door and felt my throat tighten and relax. I want to see that boy again, but would he look at me like that after what happened? Would he look like her?


End file.
